


A Couple of Idiots

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: After ditching a benefits gala, the evening takes an interesting turn for Clint and the reader





	A Couple of Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted from tumblr

“If one more geriatric asshole tries to cop a feel, I’m putting the rich bastard in the hospital, PR be damned.”

Tossing your clutch onto the bar with an irritated huff, you plopped down beside Natasha and Maria, the other two women looking equally aggrieved. Signaling for the bartender, you ordered a glass of liquid courage before continuing, “Do they seriously not realize I can easily snap their wrist if I wanted to?”

“I think that might be part of the appeal for some of them,” Natasha mused, twirling the olive in her martini. “Which one has been bothering you? Was it Snyder?”

“Yes,” you grumbled, taking a bracing swig of your drink, “his hand kept ‘accidentally’ drifting to my ass while we were dancing. He’s lucky all I did was step on his foot with my heels.”

“The gala will be over in another hour or two, try to hold off on building a body count until then.”

“I can’t take another hour of this, Maria; I know the whole point of this shindig is to rack up some good publicity for us and donations for the city, but I’m finishing my drink and then getting the hell out of here.”

“Is that so,” a new voice cut in. Spinning in your seat, you looked up at Director Fury. Good eye fixed on you, he asked, “Planning on playing hooky, Agent? That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

“Neither was letting rich men feel us up,” you quipped, “yet that hasn’t stopped some of the more…entitled…donors from getting handsy, sir.”

The slight grin on his face melted into a fierce scowl. “They what?”

“It’s true, sir,” Maria put in, “a few of the donors have been harassing the wait staff, as well.”

“I see.” A calm mask fell over Fury’s face, his expression giving away nothing. That didn’t fool any of you though- he was  _pissed_. “Excuse me, agents, while I go have a talk with the mayor about the conduct of some of the guests.”

“Let him know that next time, there’s gonna be some broken fingers and noses,” you said as he turned to walk away.

He fought back a smirk. “I’ll do that, Agent. In the meantime, I think Agent Barton might have had a little too much to drink. Since you’re leaving anyway, why don’t you help him back home…before any fingers get broken.”

Sour mood lifting, you grinned back. “Copy that, sir.”

With a nod, Fury wandered off, certain to give the mayor and all of his cronies an earful. Natasha and Maria watched in amusement as you tossed back the rest of your drink and slapped a tip on the bartop, grateful for your reprieve. Much as you loved your work as an Avenger, you absolutely hated the galas and benefit dinners you were sometimes required to attend to drum up good press.

“Have either of you seen Barton? Last I saw him, he was with Steve and Sam, but that was a while ago…”

“I think he was showing off some of his acrobatic skills to a few of the cougars in the crowd,” Maria said.

“Why am I not surprised,” you asked no one in particular. “I’d better find him before one of them sinks their claws in- see you guys later.”

Tracking down the rogue archer was no easy task. The hotel ballroom was packed with all of the movers and shakers of the cities elite- everyone who could afford a ticket wanted the chance to rub elbows with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. You were stopped half a dozen times for pictures, plastering on a smile for the cameras before continuing your hunt.

A large crowd was gathered in one of the far corners, raucous laughter and cheers floating toward you. With a sense of foreboding, you followed the sound, politely shoving your way to the front of the crowd. The beginnings of a headache began throbbing at your temples when you saw what they were all watching: Clint, still dressed in his suit, balancing upside down on one hand, a dart clutched in the other.

A dartboard had been procured by the hotel staff, and while you looked on, Clint took aim with the dart. A loud cheer went up when the dart struck the bullseye, Clint clumsily flipping to his feet and giving an unsteady bow. As he straightened, he nearly knocked over a passing waiter, uttering a drunken apology. Stifling an exasperated sigh, you decided to act before the audience demanded an encore.

“Sorry, folks, I’m afraid I have to steal Agent Barton for a moment,” you simpered, wrapping a steadying arm around his waist and hustling him away before anyone could protest. Clint, for his part, didn’t offer up any resistance, happily stumbling along beside you.

“Oh man, you smell like a bottle of Johnny Walker,” you groused, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “Let’s get you home so you can sleep this off- Fury’s orders.”

“You gonna take me home, sweetheart,” he slurred into your ear, dopey grin widening.

“Come on,” you ignored the lecherous tone in his voice, nearly stumbling as he braced himself against you, “if you’re good, I might even help you with the hangover tomorrow.”

“I can be good for you,” he pouted, calloused fingers drawing random patterns on your arm.

You ignored the flash of heat that went through you at the suggestive hint in his words. In spite of Natasha’s best efforts to play matchmaker, none of the playful flirting and good-natured teasing between you and Clint had ever amounted to anything. Besides, he was hardly sober enough to consent to anything.

Deflecting a constant stream of flirty comments coming from the archer, you made your way to the valet parking, climbing into one of the private cars Stark provided for all of you. Clint was quiet the whole way to his apartment, blond head lolling against your shoulder. It would have been endearing if not for the strong odor of whiskey coming off of him.

Dragging Clint up the stairs to his apartment was a test in patience. Though the driver was kind enough to offer his assistance, you declined. Clint was pretty private about his personal life, preferring to live away from the compound, and although Stark was sure to have vetted all of his employees, you respected Barton’s wish for anonymity. Of course, that didn’t keep you from complaining as you staggered along under his heavy weight, hampered further by your dress and heels.

“You really need to lay off the pizza, Barton,” you grumbled under your breath as you rifled through his pockets for his keys. It took all of your willpower to ignore the heat of his thigh beneath your fingertips, firm muscles twitching under your touch.

“Gettin’ a little personal, pretty girl.”

“Well, I can always pick the lock if it’s a problem.”

“Naw,” he drawled, “didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

You laughed it off, unwilling to put much stock in his drunken flirtations. “Down, boy.”

Finally locating his keys in his jacket pocket, you pushed open the door and stumbled inside, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. Clint was no help, clinging to your side like trailing ivy. Navigating his cluttered floors should have earned you hazard pay, piles of discarded clothes strewn about haphazardly. Rolling your eyes at the mess, you kicked open the door to his bedroom, relieved to see that at least the bed was relatively clean. With a slight  _oof_ , you dropped him on the mattress, peeling him out of his jacket and tugging his shoes off so he could sleep it off comfortably. Clint watched you through hooded eyes, whining slightly when you drew away.

“Do you need anything before I go? Some water? Aspirin? A bucket in case you reenact ‘ _The Exorcist_ ’?”

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, “stay.”

“And give up sleeping in my own bed? Gonna have to pass, buddy.”

“Even if I swear to make it worth your while,” he said, giving you his best bedroom eyes.

Biting back a sigh, you decided to play along long enough for him to pass out. Perching on the edge of the bed, you pushed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead, running your fingers through the short strands. He leaned into your touch, humming in pleasure. Cupping his cheek, you said, “Much as I’d love for you to prove it, I think you might have had a little too much to drink, Clint. I don’t sleep with people too drunk to know better; besides, I’d hate to get to the good part only for a case of whiskey dick to spoil the mood.”

“That ain’t gonna be a problem,” he promised, his fingers inching toward your leg.

Ready to gently turn him down, something about the way he was looking at you made you pause. For someone who needed your help getting home, Clint was surprisingly clear-eyed…in fact, suspiciously so. There was no hint of a slur in his voice, no sign of alcohol clouding his vision, or his judgement.

“You little shit,” you exclaimed, hopping to your feet, “you let me drag your heavy ass all the way here, and you weren’t even drunk to begin with, were you!”

Clint didn’t even have the decency to look abashed at being caught, grinning at your irritation. “Nope, just sprinkled some booze on my jacket and stumbled around a little- figured it was the easiest way to get Fury to let me go home early. Nat probably figured it out, but she won’t tell anyone…hopefully.”

Fighting the urge to slap the pleased smirk off his face, you spun on your heel, kicking aside the clothes scattered across his floor as you made your way back to the front door. “You’re a dick, Barton, ya know that? You could have at least told me the truth on the car ride over here instead of letting me haul your sorry ass up the stairs.”

“Crap,” he mumbled to himself, scrambling after you, “come on, don’t be mad, I was just kidding around. I’m sorry, okay- it was a dick move.”

“I oughta kick your ass.”

“You do that anyway,” he joked, smile fading at the glare you aimed his way. “Look, I really am sorry; I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”

Unwilling to let your annoyance die under his puppy dog eyes, you added, “And do you mind telling me what the hell that was back there?”

“What was what?”

“Back in the bedroom! Was all that your idea of a joke too?”

Chewing on his lip, he seemed to debate with himself before answering, “Only if you want it to be?”

“Clint, would you just give me a straight answer.”

He was quiet a moment before muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Aw fuck it”. Taking you by the hand, he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you in for a kiss. Taken by surprise, you were too stunned by the abrupt kiss to do more than marvel at how soft his lips were before he was pulling away.

“Clint…”

He sighed, letting go of your waist. “Look, I know I don’t have much to offer compared to a lot of guys, but I like you. A lot. And I’m really sorry if I crossed a line, but you never take me seriously when I try flirting so I figured I’d go with the direct approach.”

“The direct approach,” you repeated, dumbfounded by your shared stupidity. All this time, wasted, because neither one of you could get your head out of your own ass long enough to see the other was interested. “Son of a bitch…”

“…not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

Before he could turn away in dejection, you grabbed him by the belt loop and hauled him in for another kiss. At the back of your mind, a small voice that sounded an awful lot like Natasha shouted ‘ _Finally!_ ’. The kiss was rushed and unrefined, your noses bumping against one another, teeth clacking together painfully. It left your heart racing.

Breaking away, the two of you stared at each other in silence, time standing still as you tried to process what just happened. This…this was not how you expected the night to go. Clint looked as dazed as you felt, the ghost of a smile spreading across his face. An answering smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, excitement and nervousness bubbling in your belly.

Clint thumped his forehead against yours with a grin. “We’re idiots.”

“Yeah, we really are.”

“And here I was planning on you being the smart one in this relationship.”

“Barton, shut up and kiss me again.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He swooped in for another kiss. Prepared this time, you met him halfway, your third kiss the best so far. It was all of the things Clint himself was: playful, sweet, and just a little bit dirty. Lips sliding and moving together, you savored the press of his warm body against yours, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He held you close, fingers closing on your hips as the kiss dragged on. Feeling cheeky, you darted your tongue out to lick at the seam of his lips, smiling against him when he responded with a whine.

When you lapped at him a second time, he opened for you, welcoming the wet glide of your tongue with a groan. Clint tasted like coffee and just a hint of liquor, his tongue warm and pliant against your own. He sucked your tongue deeper into his mouth, the kiss getting more heated by the second. Suckling on your tongue, Clint pulled you closer still, practically devouring you with his kiss. You kissed him back just as heatedly, curls of arousal coiling in your belly.

If the tent forming in his slacks was any indication, you weren’t the only one affected. Rolling your hips experimentally, the beginnings of an erection prodded at your center, fanning the lust building in your core. Grinding against him, you swallowed down his moans with a pleased hum. Clint was quick to retaliate, giving your ass a sharp pinch in revenge. The biting flare of pleasurable pain went straight to your wet pussy, inner walls fluttering in search of relief.

Worried that you might be moving too fast, you forced yourself to pull back long enough to ask, “Clint, are we- should we- slow down a bit?”

“Do you want to,” he asked seriously, “just say the word, and we’ll stop.”

Taking in his disheveled appearance, his face flushed and lips swollen from your kiss, everything in you screamed to rip his clothes off and ride him like Seabiscuit. The long months of unresolved sexual tension between you hung thick and cloying in the air, begging to finally, finally be resolved. “No. No, I don’t want to stop.”

“Oh thank God.” The relief on his face was almost comical, and you welcomed the passionate kiss he laid on you. But he was serious once again when he broke away for some air. “I mean it, though- anytime you want to stop, just say so.”

You responded by drawing him in for another kiss, nipping at his lips until he parted for you. Kicking off your heels, you reached for his belt, letting him navigate you towards the couch. Without breaking the kiss, you tugged his belt off, shoving him to sit before hitching up your dress and straddling his lap.

Your lips immediately found each other, hips rocking and grinding against one another mindlessly. Clint’s hands were everywhere, eagerly exploring your body. Calloused fingers trailed up and down your sides, tugging at your clothes and cradling the curve of your ass. He toyed with the tiny zipper on your dress, silently asking permission. You murmured your assent, shivering in anticipation as the cool air of his apartment hit the naked skin of your back.

Drawing back to slip your dress free of your shoulders, Clint went still beneath you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. A maroon bra was the only thing shielding your breasts from his gaze, your nipples pebbling from the intensity of his stare as much as from the cold. It was impossible to feel self conscious when he looked at you like that, as if you were a treat he couldn’t wait to devour.

“Damn, I’m one lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered, almost too low for you to hear.

“They’re just boobs, Clint.”

“No, they’re not  _just_  boobs, they’re  _your_  boobs.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you said, “You know you’re welcome to touch if you want.”

“Oh, I want. I definitely, definitely want.”

His touch was gentle, yet confident as he cupped and stroked your breasts, the rough pads of his fingertips snagging on the satiny fabric. Your breath hitched as he plucked and rolled your nipples through the material, an arrow of lust shooting to your aching pussy. Weaving your fingers through his hair, you murmured encouragements, your body clamoring for more.

A breathy sigh escaped you when he tugged the cups of your bra down, soft lips wrapping around one of your nipples. You rolled your hips into him as he laved and suckled at you, the wet heat of his mouth pulling a stream of soft moans from you. Clint continued to toy with your other breast, mindlessly rocking up into your heat as you writhed in his arms. Neither of you had even fully undressed yet, and he already had you panting for him.

Clint switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. The hard length of his cock pressed against your center, separated only by a few layers of cloth. The slick walls of your cunt longed to have the full, heavy weight of him buried deep inside. Snaking your hands between you, you worked open the fly of his trousers, carefully easing him free of the confining clothes. You were rewarded with a sharp hiss of pleasure from Clint, the archer pulling off of your breast with a wet pop.

“Careful, sweetheart, or this’ll be over before it’s begun.”

“Is that so?”

The temptation to tease him too great to ignore, you lazily pumped his cock, soaking in all of his little moans and whimpers. Head thumping against the back of the couch, Clint’s eyes fluttered shut as you worked him, losing himself in your touch. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and lick a line up the column of his throat, gently nibbling at the spot where his neck and shoulder met. Swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, you reveled in the way he whispered your name, harsh and needy and desperate for more.

“You trying to kill me, pretty girl?”

“Naw, I need you alive for what I’ve got planned.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. So what do you say we move this to the bedroom, hmmm?”

“God, yes.”

Hastily tugging the straps of your bra and dress back on, you clambered off of him, taking a second to appreciate the debauched vision before you. Hair a mess, hard cock hanging free from his open slacks- it was like something out of your late night fantasies. Clint didn’t bother straightening himself up before jumping up and taking you by the hand, tugging you back towards his bedroom, his cock bobbing up and down with every step. Giddy excitement nearly had you  laughing at the sight, your pussy clenching in response.

In the bedroom, Clint let go of your hand, darting for his bedside table. Rifling through the contents, he mumbled, “Should still have some- here we go!”

You  _did_  laugh at the triumphant look on his face when he turned to face you, proudly brandishing a handful of condoms. Taking his face between your hands, you kissed him until both of you were panting for air. Looking dazed, Clint let you push him to the mattress, hastily shucking his clothes. Allowing your dress to fall to the floor, you laughed again when he saw you weren’t wearing any panties.

“Christ, woman, you really are trying to kill me.”

Unhooking your bra and dropping it next to your gown, you crawled atop him, his hands immediately going to your hips. “I told you, bird boy, I’ve got plans for you that definitely require you being alive.”

Dragging one of his hands to  your center, he prodded at the heat between your legs. “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

“What’d you expect? Been thinking about this for a long time, Clint.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one,” he teased, running his fingers up and down your slick folds, dipping his fingertips inside before pulling away again. Popping the glistening digits into his mouth, he groaned. “Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined how I’d taste?”

“Hell yeah I imagined it,” he nodded, “among other things…let’s just say it’s a good thing we don’t have a mind reader on the team.”

“Oh? And what else did you think about, Clint? Did you think about me going down on you, licking and sucking your cock til you couldn’t take anymore? Of my mouth and tongue working your cock til you came down my throat? Or did you think of eating me out until my legs were jelly and your tongue was sore?”

He swallowed hard. “Both. All the time. I, uh, I would dream about you sitting on my face and eating you out until you couldn’t take anymore.”

“Well, you’ve got me here now, so what’s stopping you?”

You stifled a yelp when he abruptly hauled you up his body, grabbing onto the headboard for balance. Clint didn’t seem to notice, scooching down the bed to settle between your spread thighs. The sight of him looking up at you from between your knees sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, your cunt pulsing in anticipation.

Too impatient to drag things out, he dove in with gusto, putting that smart mouth to good use. Licking broad strokes up your folds, Clint ate you like a man starved. Sucking and slurping at your pussy, he used his thumbs to hold your lips open and give him better access. Clint fucked his tongue into your channel, the obscene squelch barely audible over your wordless moans and sighs. Swirling his tongue along your walls, he swallowed your slick down with a groan.

The blunt press of two of his fingers at your entrance had you gasping his name. He eased them inside your slippery channel, the stretch of it incredible. Your pussy clenched down around them, the relief of finally having something inside almost bringing tears to your eyes. He slowly worked you open, scissoring and stretching your walls. Carding your fingers through his hair, you could only hold on as pressure built in your belly, your hips undulating against his mouth.

Clint licked a line up to your clit, wrapping his lips around the swollen bundle of nerves, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue. You bucked and writhed as he toyed with you, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you as he suckled on the aching bud. Clint was forced to wrap an arm around your thigh, pinning you in place as you raced towards orgasm. The many months of tension between you, the kisses and the touches, the feeling of his mouth on you, fingers in you…it was too much. Trapped in his hold, you came with a cry, legs trembling as you went tumbling over the edge.

Reluctantly pulling away, Clint worked you through your release, fingers gradually slowing to a stop before he eased them free of your cunt. Achingly empty, your body keened at the loss even as you rode the last waves of pleasure. Chest heaving, you became aware of a wet smacking sound filling the room. Forcing your eyes to focus, you watched as Clint noisily sucked your juices from his drenched fingers, a pleased look on his face.

Before he could make some smartass comment and ruin the mood, you shimmied down his torso, stretching over him and planting an absolutely filthy kiss to his lips. He opened for you automatically, the rich tang of your own release flooding your mouth. His cock dug into your stomach, leaving a smear of precome on your skin. Rooting around blindly for the condoms, you dug them out from beneath the pillows, breaking the kiss to impatiently tear one open.

Taking hold of his cock, you carefully rolled the condom onto him, sliding your fingers into the sloppy mess he’d made between your legs, gathering up some of your release. Clint sucked in a breath, eyes glued to your movements. He actually whined when you circled your clit with your fingers, his cock jumping at the sight. Slicking him up with a few quick strokes, you angled him at your entrance and slowly sank down, taking him inside with one fell swoop.

The stretch of him stung in the best way possible, even after all of his preparation. Clint was thick, his cock spreading your walls wide; he hadn’t even moved yet, but you already knew you’d be feeling him with every step tomorrow. Thighs flexing and straining beneath your ass, his cock twitched inside you as he patiently waited for you to adjust.

Bracing your hands on his stomach, you lifted yourself off of his cock until the head sat nestled at your entrance. Dropping down, you damn near whimpered at the shiver of pleasure that rushed up your spine. You did it again, head falling back with a moan at the heavy drag of his cock splitting you open. Not content to let you do all the work, Clint thrust up on your next drop down, groaning at the feeling of your welcoming heat wrapped around him.

Moving together, the two of you found a rhythm that worked for you both. Soon, the room echoed with the sounds of sex, the wet slap of skin on skin joining a steady stream of moans and sighs. His fingers dug into the soft globes of your ass, pulling you down to meet his thrusts. Bouncing up and down his cock, you swiveled your hips experimentally, rewarded with a groan from the man beneath you.

“Fuck, do that again.”

Proud of the neediness in his voice, you complied, thighs starting to burn as you bucked against him. The headboard thumped against the wall as delicious pressure built in your belly, threatening to overwhelm you at any moment. Irate neighbors were the last thing on your mind, though, so lost were you in the frenzy for more, more, more.

Clint shifted beneath you, and you couldn’t keep from crying out when his cock brushed against that special spot inside. He shot you a cocky grin. “There we go- knew I’d find it.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he, with unerring accuracy, struck that spot again. Light flashed behind your eyes, ecstasy bubbling in your blood as he pulled sounds from you none of your previous lovers ever managed. Cock throbbing in anticipation, Clint prodded at the curls between your thighs until he found your clit. Rubbing tight circles around it, he rutted into you faster, crooning encouragement.

“Clint, I can’t- I’m gonna-”

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

Your only answer was a loud gasp ending in his name, the pressure in your core finally reaching the breaking point. Your orgasm rushed through you, spreading and filling your shaking limbs with utter bliss. Your pussy clenched down hard around him, the steady flex and release calling him to join you in completion. With one last, hard thrust, Clint went still, holding himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled into the condom.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by two sets of heaving lungs as you worked your way down from your highs. Sweaty, sticky, and sore, you felt better than you had in ages. Even when your cramping thighs forced you to roll off of Clint, his softening cock slipping free of your drenched cunt, you could only give a breathless laugh before forcing yourself to hobble to the bathroom and begin the process of cleaning up.

“And to think we could have been doing that all this time,” Clint said from his spot on the bed, his voice muffled through the partially shut door.

He’d disposed of the condom by the time you’d finished washing up, sprawled out across the mattress, completely at ease with his own nudity. Flopping down beside him, you advised, “Don’t think about that- just focus on the fact that from now on, we can anytime we want.”

Scooting across the sheets, Clint wrapped his limbs around you like an octopus, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Anytime?”

“Well, yeah…why? You can’t possibly be ready to go again this soon.”

He jerked back, careful to maintain his tight grip on you. “Hell no, woman, you wore me out; I’m gonna need at least an hour nap before little Clint is good to go.”

Turning in his hold to face him, you grinned. “Then I guess I’ll see you in an hour.”


End file.
